Christmas of Tears
by liberty-phoenix
Summary: Hermione has been captured by death eaters. Where will she find the strength to fight, and what will happen to her when she does?


**AN: **This is just a one-shot. I think it's a quite beautiful story. I got the idea when I sat listening to some gospel music, and though that I could use it in a story… I know it's not Christmas yet, but I figured that since this isn't really your happy Christmas story you wouldn't mind. I'm not sure this is what I'd want to read on Christmas Eve… But any other time of year I'd love it… Beware of minor HBP spoilers. Well, read, enjoy, and above all REVIEW! Please…?

Christmas of Tears 

Silent, salty tears ran down Hermione's cheeks. She brought a hand up to her face and wiped her red eyes. She sniffled into the sleeve of her once-white school shirt and looked up at the small window just below the ceiling of the cold dungeon.

She had been there for a month now, and she was not a pretty sight anymore. Her curly brown hair had become frizzy and greasy, her clothes were dirty, and her skin held a pale glow beneath the dirtiness that covered her whole body. She had not been allowed to take a shower, and the only clean water she had gotten near was what they gave her to drink thrice a day. She had lost a lot of weight and had gone from being slightly chubby to being deathly thin, the two lumps of bread and three glasses of water she got each day barely being enough to keep her alive. Her once so lively brown eyes seemed to have lost their soul, and they were red and puffy from all the crying she had done.

As she sat on the cold stone floor with her back against the wall and her thick, black school rope wrapped around her pulled up legs and stared up at the small window, her face was totally expressionless and hopeless. It had begun to snow lightly outside and Hermione stared intently at the small white flakes she could make out in the darkness. The tears had stopped their endless flowing; she no longer had the energy to cry. She tore her gaze away from the window to look down at her watch just in time to see the small hands both coming to a rest at twelve. She looked back up at the window.

"It's Christmas." The silent whisper of her voice was barely audible. She sat in total silence, not moving a muscle.

"Christmas," she whispered again after a little while, as a smile started to tug at the corners of her mouth. She felt the warmth of hope spread from her heart through her whole body as she brought a hand up to finger with the tiny gold cross that hung from her neck in a delicate chain. She remembered all the times her parents had taken her to church when she was younger, before she started Hogwarts. Her smile grew wider and her eyes began to twinkle with hope as newfound strength and determination welled up in her body.

A tear of relief trickled down her face as she began to sing softly in a clear soprano, a Christmas carol her mum used to sing for her when she was a kid.

Have you heard the sound of the angel voices 

_Ringing out so sweetly, ringing out so clear?_

_Have you seen the star shining out so brightly_

_As a sign from God that Christ, the Lord is here?…_

…_He will bring new light to a world in darkness_

_Like a bright star shining in the skies above_

_He will bring new hope to the waiting nations_

_When He comes to reign in purity and love_

_Let the Earth rejoice at the Saviour's coming_

_Let the Heaven's answer with a joyful morn…_

"How very touching, Granger, that you can still believe in such nonsense!" the cold voice of Severus Snape sneered somewhere close to her. Hermione stopped singing abruptly and the darkness that, for a short while, had seemed soft and pleasant once again turned cold and sharp.

"What do you want!" she snapped, angry at him for disturbing her, and for killing Dumbledore, and for not being who he said he was, and for so many other things. Tears of frustration threatened to spill once more, but she held them back with all her strength, desperate not to show any sign of weakness towards him.

"The Dark Lord wants you," Snape spat as he waited for her to get up. Hermione looked at where she could faintly make out his silhouette towering over her.

"I only answer to one Lord!" she answered him, strength and determination evident in her voice. The statement seemed to trigger Snape off. He grabbed her skinny arm and dragged her with him out of the dungeon.

The room he finally pulled her into, after having climbed flights of stairs and dragged her through several narrow corridors, was glowing in a green light. Hermione looked around. Voldemort, or the Dark Lord as the people here called him, was sitting a good few metres away on a huge throne of stone in front of a big window, the only window. It was still snowing; she could see the big white flakes hit the glass of the window one by one. In all the corners she could faintly see the contours of several hooded death eaters. She could not find the source of the greenish light.

Snape jerked her forward and let go of her arm so she landed on her knees in front of Voldemort, then he too retreated into the shadows. Hermione quickly stood up, not wanting to show the fear that had started to form in the pit of her stomach. Voldemort gave her a sickening, evil smile.

"You have extraordinary powers Mudblood," he started, "You could be useful. I want you to join me."

"Never!" Hermione said, her voice steady and her gaze strong, boring into the red eyes of the evil man in front of her. The pain that hit her chest was so strong she thought she would die or go insane. She stumbled backwards, but focused all her strength and willpower on remaining standing. When the pain stopped as abruptly as it had come Hermione was panting, she looked up, staring directly at Voldemort, with calm, cold eyes. She knew there was no way out of this. She began speaking knowing it would probably be the last words she ever spoke.

"I only answer to one Lord," she said for the second time that night, then proceeded with her speech, quoting Franklin D. Roosevelt, knowing it would kill her, "And I and all others who believe in freedom as I do, will rather die on my feet than live on my knees."

Hermione faintly registered the doors to the room slamming open and a young male voice scream, "Hermione!" before she fell into a welcoming, soft light. She was going home.

Song: Angel's Carol, by John Rutter.

**AN: **Hope you liked it. Please let me know what you think.


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